


Appetent

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: All-American Rejects
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-26
Updated: 2007-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Sky.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Appetent

**Author's Note:**

> For Sky.

**Oklahoma, June 2002; a quiet corner table in a bar**

"So how long have you been," Mike made a hand motion that really wasn't as dirty as the situation allowed. Nick took a swig of his beer.

"That could be so many questions," he said. He was feeling still pretty sober, despite how much he'd drunk. "And they'd all have different answers," he added, because it was true.

"Okay." Mike was silent for a moment, thinking. Nick swallowed another mouthful of stout (this was pretty good beer, which was a nice change) and waited. "How long," Mike began at last, "have you been in love with Ty? No wait," he added quickly as Nick opened his mouth to speak. "How long have you had the _hots_ for Ty?"

"Ah." Nick pointed the neck of his bottle at Mike. "Now see, you are correct in saying those are two different questions. I had the _hots_, as you put it, for Ty pretty much when we met. I was fifteen, he was thirteen, he was fucking hot, I was a goner. I wasn't in _love_ with him until like. College."

"So how'd that happen?" Mike rested his chin on his hand and looked at Nick, attentive. Nick smiled, because you just can't help it when Kennerty looks at you like that, you _have_ to smile. "I mean, no, wait. Ooh." He sat back, light dawning on his face. "How long have you been _seeing_ Ty?"

"Now _that_," Nick nodded, "is yet another question. And the answer is, since New York."

"You're fucking kidding me." Mike blinked, as if it would help. "What the fuck? You fell in love with him at _college_, and it took you until _this year_ to start dating him? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

"I _know_," Nick sighed. "It's not like I didn't try! Seriously, Mike, you have no idea how fucking hard I tried, I practically _threw_ myself at him, but he just. He had this girlfriend, and uh. I'm kind of the … reason they broke up. It's, yeah. Got kind of fucked up, then."

"How so?" Mike was back to watching him again.

"Dude, Ty was like, heartbroken. He really liked that girl." Nick picked at the label on his bottle, quiet for a minute. "I guess I … I kind of backed off then, you know? I mean, I'm his best friend, I did the thing when the girl dumps the friend, I listened and rented movies with him and shit. You know, the girly stuff." Half his mouth twisted in a smile. "Ty told me later he hadn't known why she'd dumped him, but _I_ knew. I mean, she came out and _said_ it was because I was so obviously into him, and she didn't want to stand in the way of that. She's a great girl, actually. Never told anyone." He smiled again, this time more absently. "But uh, I just didn't want to like, take advantage. I mean, Ty was really _down_, you know? Cut up about it. So I just, I let it be, figured this wouldn't be the first break-up I'd get him through, you know?"

"Aww." Mike was smiling his listening smile. (He had a smile for every occasion.) "What happened then?"

"Then," Nick said, finishing off his beer with one last drain of the bottle, "then we went to New York."

*

**New York, January 2002; the mattress on a producer's living room floor**

Nick was not used to New England winters. He was used to all-year air conditioning and maybe three flakes of snow if they were lucky enough not to melt instantly. He was used to insect sounds and cool breezes. Here, the cold woke him and the heating clicked and clanked when it came on and Tyson was always huddling closer for warmth.

He was considering moving here, just for that. But then, he wouldn't always be sharing a mattress with Tyson. Though if they didn't make any money out of the record, maybe they'd always have to live like this, cramped together and huddled for warmth, and Nick wouldn't mind that. He'd pretty much take anything he could get, when it came to Ty.

It was a Wednesday night and he'd woken himself up shivering again. He moved marginally closer to Tyson, who sort of rolled over and enveloped him and it was a bit like having his own personal heater. Only, a heater that snuffled next to his ear and slung legs over his thighs. Which would only become embarrassing if they moved any higher.

Nick closed his eyes, trying to sleep again, warm now – but instead, he just started thinking about the snare part in the song they were recording and whether it needed perhaps another fill somewhere in the middle or if that would be too much. His wrists twitched as he tried it out in his head, playing back what they'd already done, mentally adding the fill and the snare bit to see if it worked out. He concluded that it probably wouldn't, but he should try it with the kit in the morning, just to see.

Tyson nuzzled closer in his sleep. Nick could feel his mouth resting against his shoulder, through the fabric of his shirt, and kept his eyes closed. If he just imagined, Tyson could be kissing his shoulder, lips parted and maybe getting ready to bite a little.

Fuck, he had to stop thinking like that. It would be really hard to jerk off without Ty noticing; he'd managed it the past couple of mornings, because Tyson was a heavy sleeper sometimes, but what with him half wrapped around Nick's body, it would be pretty much impossible right now and he was hard enough _anyway_. He opened his eyes, trying not to think about jerking off while Tyson watched, Ty jerking him off, fuck –

"You 'wake?"

"What?" Nick jumped, thankful it was so dark and hoping he didn't look too guilty in what little light there was. "Uh, yeah, kinda."

"'S cold," Tyson murmured, wriggling closer. His legs slid up Nick's thighs, and Nick looked down – it seemed to happen in slow motion, Tyson's knee inching up and up, his thigh following, crawling towards the fucking tent in the blankets. He closed his eyes, hoping it wouldn't happen, but – "Oho!" Tyson crowed, softly. "What have we here?" He rocked his leg a little, unhelpful, and it took every single ounce of effort for Nick not to whimper. "You know, if you wanted to do something about that, I wouldn't mind. Hell, we all got a dick, right? I'd probably join you." He wriggled some more and oh. Fuck. Tyson was hard, pressing against Nick's hip, and he needed to fucking stop, right fucking now.

"Ty," Nick whispered, and he meant it to sound admonishing, in a what-the-fuck-do-you-think-you're-doing? way, but it came out more desperate pleading than anything else and he instantly shut his eyes tight, hoping Tyson wouldn't take it the way it sounded.

Tyson, however, went still. "Nick?" he said, so quiet Nick wondered for a minute if he'd imagined it. But then Tyson's hand was on his chest, splaying out, and Nick's breath stuttered. "I'm gonna," Tyson said, just as quiet, audibly swallowing, oh fuck, "do something now, and if," his hand slid slowly, slowly onto Nick's stomach, and Nick had to stop himself arching up oh fuck, "it's a bad idea we can," his hand was still moving downwards oh fuck oh fuck, "pretend it never happened, it was," and his other hand was wriggling around and they were both _taking Nick's pants down_, "just a dream. Okay?"

Nick realised that this was a question, that it required an answer, that much hinged on this answer, but he also knew that he was incapable of forming words at that precise moment and if he opened his mouth a _sound_ would come out and the game would be up but, but, Ty had said they could pretend it was just a dream, and before he could debate it any further his mouth opened of its own volition and a small noise escaped his throat. Tyson had by now shifted Nick's pyjama pants half way down his thighs, and _something_ was going to happen, and it was going to be messy.

"Okay. Shit. You're gonna be cold for a minute, because I have to fucking watch this." Tyson's voice had enough sound in it now that Nick was absolutely sure he wasn't imagining it, and before he could even process the words, let alone ask Tyson what they meant, the blanket was gone, shoved aside, and a rush of cold air hit Nick at the same moment as Tyson wrapped one hand around his cock.

All pretence gone, Nick arched up into the touch and let out a moan much louder than he'd meant to. "Ty," he whimpered, and he couldn't take in anything that was happening because his entire world, his field of vision, the boundaries of his thoughts, _everything_ had shrunk to the sensations of Tyson's palm and Tyson's fingers and the movement of them _on his cock_ and nothing else existed but Ty.

"Fuck," came Tyson's voice from somewhere on his chest. "Fuck it," the voice added, and then Nick felt even colder. He couldn't work out why for a minute, but then he wrenched his attention to the question and realised, oh fucking _shit_, Tyson was moving downwards, nudging Nick's shirt up with his nose and kissing his stomach, and – and _licking_ a _line_ down the hair leading down to his crotch, and then – fuck, fuck, fuck, Tyson was moving his hand down to the base of Nick's cock and keeping it there while he flicked his tongue out at the head, sort of slowly, sort of reverently, and then he closed his mouth over it and sucked softly and Nick squeezed his eyes shut so tight he saw stars on his eyelids. Tyson's mouth slid down, enveloping him in warm wetness, _sucking_, and Nick opened his eyes to make sure, to be _really sure_ this was not a dream, but Tyson's eyes were open too and he was looking up at Nick and fuck.

"Oh fuck, Ty," he moaned, softly, because he didn't seem capable of much sound, or even coherent thought. Tyson groaned around him, and Nick threw his head back, forcing himself not to thrust all the way into Tyson's throat, but fucking hell, fucking _hell_, Tyson was _sucking his cock_ and he wanted to watch, again, so he looked back down and Tyson's eyes – fuck, fuck, fuck, Tyson looked like he could fucking come any fucking second and oh. Nick had sort of forgotten about coming, lost in the sensations and thinking _Tyson's sucking me off oh fuck_, but now he remembered it was like his body decided to catch up, and he bucked up, throwing his head back and stifling a loud groan against his arm as he came.

When his vision righted again, he noticed teeth marks and realised he must have bitten his arm. He lowered it, watching Tyson raise up on his elbows and swallow. He did it carefully, so as not to choke, and Nick wondered how the fuck he knew to do that. He didn't get a chance to ask, though, because Tyson pulled his pyjama pants back up and crawled up his body and lay on top of him and Nick yanked his head down and kissed him like it was the only thing left to do to save both of their lives. Tyson was shaking pretty hard, he tasted like all the times Nick had licked his fingers after jerking off, and he was still hard, pressing into Nick's hip again, _shaking_. "Nick," he groaned into the space where their mouths met. "Nick, oh fuck, please. _Please_."

By that time, Nick's spine had solidified again, so he turned them over, yanking Tyson's pants down and fuck, he was already slick, he was so fucking _close_, and Nick allowed himself two long licks up Tyson's cock, one on each side, before wrapping a hand around the base and taking as much as he could into his mouth. He pressed his tongue flat against it and gave a sharp, hard suck, then pulled his whole mouth up, almost entirely off, just circling the head with his tongue, before going back down again. He hummed, softly, tongue flat against the side.

Tyson was shaking even harder, and Nick looked up to watch him. Tyson's hands were curling and uncurling, grasping handfuls of the sheets and letting them go. He looked back down at Nick, who locked their gaze and then sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks. "Holy shit," Tyson moaned, and he came, still maintaining eye contact as Nick's mouth filled to the corners.

He pulled off and Tyson watched him swallow it down, bit by bit. Nick collapsed against his chest and pulled the blankets back over them. He was definitely not cold now. "If you fucking pretend that was a dream tomorrow, I will fucking kill you," he breathed against Tyson's chin.

Tyson's fingers tangled in his hair. "Why the fuck would I pretend that was a dream? Unless it was like, a recurring dream. Because fuck."

Nick's body wanted to sleep, but this conversation seemed to want to happen instead. "I could do recurring dream. I'd rather be awake, though. I mean like. Recurring … awake. Something."

Tyson laughed, quiet. "Why didn't you fucking say? I thought it was just me."

Nick raised up on his elbows to look Tyson in the eye. "What," he enunciated, "the fuck? Did you not notice like, _years_ of me coming on to you? _Years_, Ty."

"I thought that was just," Tyson waved his hands, "y'know. You were drunk, or, I was imagining it because I _wanted_ you to come on to me, or, you were just being great because I was coming on to _you_ or. I didn't think you were." He stopped, eyes a little wild. "But," he continued, quieter, looking down at Nick's arm, "you stopped, like. You didn't – I figured, uh, you were okay with flirting and shit when I had a girlfriend because it was just." He scrubbed at his face with one hand. "Y'know. Like it didn't mean anything, but as soon as she was gone, it'd _mean_ something so you stopped."

"You were upset," Nick said, and he thought about tilting Tyson's chin back up but Ty looked at him before he could move to. "Ty, I wasn't going to like, _push_, not then. Figured I'd, y'know, give you space and shit."

"Doesn't matter," Tyson said, and he was starting to smile. He gently pulled Nick back down and kissed him, and this time it wasn't desperate, it wasn't hungry, it was just Nick and Ty, kissing like the very action would seal them as NickandTy for good. "I got you now," Tyson breathed.

"Yeah," Nick murmured, and kissed him again.

*

**The Batcave, September 2002; three boys just returned from rehearsal**

"We got a show in less than a week," Nick said, opening the fridge. There was Dr Pepper in it, because Mike had put it there.

"We did okay with the loops again at the last one," Tyson pointed out. He was opening cupboard doors and closing them again.

"Looking for something?" Mike asked, contorting around Nick to get the Dr Pepper bottle out of the fridge. Nick extracted the remains of the cheese block and grabbed the bread from the counter. He felt like a sandwich.

"Yeah, we got any … wait, I forgot." Tyson stared into the last cupboard and Nick reached past him, not realising he had fully pressed them together until he had acquired the ham and was leaning away again, tingling all down his side from the contact. Tyson grabbed his hips and pulled him back in, close, kissing the back of his neck. Mike just smiled at them and poured out a glass of soda. "Make me a sandwich, Nicky?" Tyson murmured against his neck.

"Ham and cheese okay?" Nick smiled, leaning back into him. He twisted around a little and Tyson kissed him, slow.

"Yeah, that's good." He moved his mouth to Nick's ear and breathed, "I'll blow you later."

Nick shivered, just a little. "What, like you wouldn't anyway?"

"I know, but. You feed me, I … eat you." He gnawed at Nick's shoulder. Nick laughed, ducking away.

"Cannibal," he swatted him.

"You love it." Tyson puckered up, and Nick snorted.

"I can leave, if you guys want to continue your foreplay," Mike grinned at them.

"Aw, Mike." Tyson slung an arm over Mike's shoulders. "We love you, don't we Nick?"

"Of course we do," Nick agreed, wondering where Tyson was going with this.

"You're not just our touring guitarist, Mike. You're one of us, dude. Totally one of us." He patted Mike on the arm affectionately, and Nick for a second thought Tyson might propose a threesome or something. "Y'know, if you wanted to be in the band _officially_, we could totally do that. Right, Nick?"

"Absolutely." Nick moved around to Mike's other side, slinging his arm alongside Tyson's. "I mean, we've talked about it, me and Ty, and yeah. You're ours, if you wanna be."

"That'd be great." Mike grinned even wider than he already was.

"Awesome," Tyson beamed. "Yeah baby, we're the _Rejects_," he added to the world at large. Next door's dog was in the back yard, and it looked up at the sound, as if the world at large had noticed.

The three of them stood there for a moment, watching the dog snuffle about on the ground some more and then amble back to its own yard. The silence grew comfortable, and Tyson and Nick moved their arms, the three-way sort-of-hug ending. "Now all we need's a drummer," Nick said, turning back to the counter and reaching for the cheese knife.

"Actually," Mike said, leaning back against the fridge and sipping his drink, "I know a guy."


End file.
